I am that age when all the music stars I grew up with are writing their biographies. The Aerosmith guys are giving it up and right now I am reading Bob Dylan’s biography. Pete Seeger is a good bit older than I am, but his life is now on PBS every week. And on it goes. For those who made it this far and didn’t burn out there are some interesting reads. While I was just listening to their music and enjoying the ride, they often were going through hell, tip-toeing across career high wire acts and sometime making some very courageous decisions.
Looking back has an attraction all its own. That’s one joy the younger do not have. It’s an unexpected treasure. No matter the pain or disappointment, there is so much good and beauty and mystery. I find God peeking around corners, showing up in places and events in the most unlikely ways, pushing me, inviting me, wooing me, revealing to me. My life has been mostly a God-thing. I take a lot of satisfaction in that. Not satisfaction with self. But satisfaction that transacting with Him has been my basic work. Once He came in the front door He never left and has since been going through all the rooms and closets, searching the attic and exploring the basement. When He disappears for a time, He still makes a racket, kicking boxes this way and that and shuffling the furniture. Sometimes He stays in one room for a while and we meet comfortably in our overstuffed chairs with after-dinner drinks. And then He simply wanders away just when I was getting used to the rhythm.Though I am the one who lives in the house called me, I think He is actually much more comfortable there than I am and knows His way around better.
